The Gift Of A Gentle Heart
by Emeraldstargazer
Summary: What exactly is 'The Gift of a Gentle Heart? And is it enough to instil love within even the coldest of winters? A Houses of Healing Story which expands the reasons behind Eowyn's sudden change of heart away from the King to the young Steward. FINISHED!
1. The Steward of Gondor

**The Gift of a Gentle Heart**

_A Fanfiction_

_By Emeraldstargazer_

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters (though I wish I did!); they all belong to Tolkien and, in the case of the movies, Peter Jackson and New Line Cinema. So please don't sue me.

**Authors Note: **Okay – this is my first LoTR fic so be gentle! It's mainly based on the books but there might be a little bit of mixing between the book and movie canons. Obviously, there are some quotes or paraphrases from the books which also belong to Tolkien and not to me! It's just my take on the expansion of the Faramir/Eowyn relationship. I've got 5 chapters written out of what I imagine will be a 6 or 7 chapter story so I'll try and update once a week depending on how the reviews go! Please R+R and enjoy!

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_Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart_

_- Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King -_

**I: The Steward of Gondor**

The sun had barely crept over the walls of the white city yet Faramir, son of Denethor; now steward of Minas Tirith, was already to be found abroad. Despite the warden's many protestations he had risen early to walk in the gardens of his beloved city and take some measure of the damage that had befallen it during the siege. Now, upon the wall of the House of Healing, Faramir could truly see the destruction the siege had wrought.

Though now the brightest sunlight lit the city, cascading off the white walls so that, looking from afar, one might think the city was glowing; Minas Tirith still looked far from its usual glory. The rubble from broken buildings littered the streets, smoke still lingered from the many fires that had ravaged the city and signs of the recent bloodshed that had taken place within the white city's walls were still evident. Though it was what he had been expecting, the new steward was disheartened by the sight; the sight adding yet more shadow to the darkness that still lingered in his mind. He tried to lift his heart with thoughts of coming days, with thoughts of the return of the king and of the white city restored to the glory it had not seen since the fall of Isildur. Yet, even though the Pelannor Fields had been fought and won, he could not find the hope within himself to fully believe in victory. The king who had marched into the city but a few days ago had left it just as quickly, before his new steward had even been fully conscious. Had left to face an enemy greater than even the numbers that had besieged Minas Tirith with but a small band of loyal troops and Rohirrim. Though not usually one for despair, Faramir could not help but think that this was a battle that even Aragorn and Mithrandir could not hope to win.

His musings were broken by the sound of a heated discussion within the hall of the House of Healing. Faint traces of the warden's anguished voice caught his ear along with another, lighter voice. Curiously, he descended from the wall back into the gardens and went to seek the source of the raised voices within such a calm place. He was not long in finding it for, as he walked towards the building, the door burst open. An agitated young woman strode out into the sunlight, her golden hair glinting in the morning's light as she walked and a distressed look upon her face. Closely following her was the warden of the House – a kind, benevolent man with a smiling countenance and who instituted a strict regime of sleep, good food and regular rest for all his patients. Unusually, he too looked agitated and his eyes swept the garden briefly before he spotted Faramir.

Breathing what appeared to Faramir's eyes to be a distinct sigh of relief, the warden hurried over, closely followed by the fair maiden.

"My lord," he spoke hastily, "this is the Lady Éowyn of Rohan who rode with the king. She was sorely hurt and has been placed in my care but she is discontent and wishes to speak with the Steward of the City"

Faramir glanced across from the warden to the woman who stood slightly behind the old man, her face defiant and yet filled with a sorrow that moved his heart to pity. So this was the Shieldmaiden of Rohan who had defeated the Witch-King. Tall and fair, her golden hair streaked with the sun's light, the Lady Éowyn was, to his eyes, beautiful beyond words. And yet he sensed in her countenance unease of spirit; behind her clear blue eyes he could see a shadow lingering that took the fair maiden's colour from her cheeks and the warmth from her heart. On her part, Éowyn returned his gaze with a defiant stare though she relaxed her posture a little and, when she spoke, her voice was gentle and the sound of it lifted some of the weight that had settled upon his heart.

"Please, do not think it is lack of care that grieves me my lord, for nobody could have had better care than I within this House. But I cannot lie idle whilst all around me have gone to war. I cannot sit here, within these walls, caged against my will. I sought death in battle but I find myself still alive and the battle goes on far from here"

Sensing the young woman's agitation, Faramir gestured for the warden to leave so as he might talk to her alone. With a slight bow, the old man hastily departed leaving Faramir and Éowyn alone in the garden.

"What would you have me do, lady?" Faramir asked, "For I too am a prisoner of the healers though I would not wish it so. Whilst my king rides to battle and my city lies in ruins, I also can do nought but sit idle within these walls, for I would not go against the warden's advice and leave before he permits it."

As her eyes settled once again upon his, Faramir felt another stab of pity within him at the sight of grief amidst such beauty. Again he asked her, this time allowing his tone yet more warmth and gentleness than before.

"What would you bid me do, lady? For, if it is within my power, I will do it."

"I would have you command the Warden, and bid him to let me go," she said. And yet, as she spoke, Faramir perceived a change within her demeanour; a faltering within her will that led her question to seem not so much defiant anger but rather a plea. He wondered what sights this fairest of maidens had seen that made her seek death so.

"I am within the Warden's keeping myself," he reiterated, "and have as yet been unable to take control of the city, though my duty would have me there rather than within this House. But I stay, for I would not defy the Warden's counsel in matters of his craft unless it were for some much greater need"

At this, Éowyn appeared to become yet more agitated and he thought, though could not be sure, that he detected slight tears form within her ice blue eyes.

"But I do not desire healing. Nor do I need it," she said. "I wish to ride to war with my brother Éomer; like Théoden the king who died with both honour and peace"

At this, such a soldier's comment from the mouth of such a woman, Faramir did indeed think that his heart would break for the pity of it. Here stood a woman in defiance of life, whom the shadow had touched so deeply that it moved her to seek death rather than live beyond its grasp.

"Lady," he said gently, "even were you fit to undertake such a task, you could not catch up with the lord Aragorn, nor your brother, not even if you had the swiftest of horses. But death in battle, if that is truly what your heart seeks, may yet come to us – willing or no. And you will be better prepared to face it in your own manner if you now do as master Warden commands. You and I, we must both endure this wait with patience as best we can."

At his words a faint tear glided down Éowyn's cheek and she turned her head downwards a little; as if to hide her sorrow from him. Yet despite this her demeanour softened a little and her voice, when she spoke, was a less icy than it had been before. Instead of the warrior she portrayed, she sounded more like she seemed to Faramir's eyes: a maiden, young and sad.

"But the healers would keep me here seven more days. And my window does not look eastward…"

Faramir smiled gently at her concerns and glanced across to the eastern wall of the garden upon which he had been standing earlier.

"Your window does not look eastward? That can be easily rectified lady and in this matter I will command the Warden. If you will stay in this House and accept the Warden's care, then you shall be able to walk in this garden and you can look eastward from the wall to whither all our hopes have gone. For here you will find me also, walking and waiting and also looking to the east. For, Éowyn of Rohan, we are not so different you and I for we have both passed under the wings of Shadow, and the same hand drew us back."

Relief crowded the face of Éowyn and a faint smile crept to her lips at Faramir's words and, for a moment, it seemed to him as if the sunlight had once again come out in the garden of Minas Tirith. But the sunlight faded as she turned her head once more.

"I thank you my lord for it will give my heart some comfort to be able to walk and think within these walls. But Shadow lies upon me still. Look not to me for healing for I make poor company whilst I lie here"

With that she offered him a small curtsy before turning and walking back towards the house. He watched her as she left, her head bowed and her look sorrowful, and decided that even in grief and sadness the lady Éowyn of Rohan was the most beautiful thing he had seen within the realm of Gondor.


	2. The Shieldmaiden of Rohan

**II: The Shieldmaiden of Rohan**

Éowyn breathed a sign of relief as she closed the door to the garden, angrily brushing away the tears that had fallen unbidden. The cool air inside the house cooled the feverish blush that had risen to her cheeks unasked for and she steadied her heartbeat as she stood within the hall. Never had a meeting with a man shaken her so much as the conversation she had just had with the Steward of Gondor.

Though now safely within the walls of the House of Healing, she could still feel his piercing gaze, unwavering as he had met her eyes. Though she had intended to remain strong and calm he had brought tears to her eyes with his kind words in the face of her cold demeanour. And whilst she suspected that many would have thought her concerns merely wayward and childish, he had respected her request and sought a solution – forcing her to doubt herself for the first time in many years. She doubted that even in Théoden's court had she met a man who was so stern and yet so gentle at the same time or one who looked so mild but who, she suspected, would be the match for any Rider of the Mark in battle. Calm once more, Éowyn determined to find out more about Faramir, Steward of Minas Tirith and, to this end she sought out Merry for she knew that he had spoken with the young Steward during their days within the Healing House.

She found the young Hobbit within his rooms, sitting in front of a roaring fire. Merry looked up as she entered and she returned his smile, recalling his bravery and valour that had protected her in her own fight.

"My lady" Merry said rising from his chair, "I did not expect to see you up and about so soon. The Warden told me that you had many days of rest ahead of you"

Bidding the Halfling to sit once more, for she could see that he was still recovering himself, Éowyn took a chair opposite him.

"The Warden wishes me to stay abed for seven days yet," she explained, "though my heart does not wish it for I cannot stay confined Master Merry, as you well know. Indeed I sought release from this place from Steward of the City but he would not grant it."

At her words Merry grinned and settled back in his chair, as if he guessed as to what Éowyn wished to ask. Indeed, she imagined that he did, for Merry was of a perceptive nature and had often seen what she had wished to hide when they talked.

"So, you have met the lord Faramir?" he asked, "And what did you think of him?"

Éowyn chose her words carefully in answering him for she knew that Merry would attempt to read into her interest in the Steward and would look for things that were not there.

"He is…a most singular person," she answered, truthfully, "and I do not believe that I have ever met anyone with so many contradictions in his character, not even within the court of Théoden king. So stern and yet so gentle, mild and yet strong"

"Indeed," Merry said smiling again, "He is so very different to his brother and yet also so alike, is he not?"

"I did not know he had a brother," Éowyn replied, "for I did not speak with him for long. He merely permitted me freedom to walk within the gardens of this House."

Merry looked up at her, as if guessing that the talk between the Steward and the Shieldmaiden had been of more importance to her than Éowyn suggested.

"Lord Faramir's brother was Boromir of Gondor," Merry explained, "who travelled within our party and fell attempting to save Pippin and myself from Uruk-hai. He was a most brave and valiant man and I know that Faramir loved him greatly, for he was the elder of the two and often protected his younger brother from their father's anger"

"Boromir of Gondor I have heard of," Éowyn replied, "for he visited our house when I was but a small child. He and Théodred were great friends in the days when the Steward of Gondor and my uncle were still in great alliance. I can remember them going out riding with my brother, though I was often left out of their games. I should have recognised the resemblance between the lord Faramir and his brother, yet I have not seen Boromir since childhood for as we all grew up, other cares weighed upon the minds of us all and childhood days were forgotten."

"They look alike," Merry agreed, "but that is really where their similarities end. Boromir was a valiant man indeed. He sought arms and battle and was proud of his country and his heritage. He was also proud and strong – maybe too proud and too quick to judge. Having met Faramir I deem that he is of gentler spirit and wiser in his judgement of matters. He told me of his enjoyment of learning as a child, how he had learnt off of Gandalf himself. Though he too is proud of his city and his race, I suspect that he takes up arms with reluctance and wishes rather to avert battle than seek it, though he too is valiant when the need calls for it."

"This too was my judgement," said Éowyn thoughtfully, "though I sense that something weighs heavy upon his heart at the moment"

Merry nodded silently and turned to look at the fire, roaring in the grate and Éowyn sensed reluctance for him to speak further upon the matter.

"Is there something wrong Merry? Or is something I have said out of place?" she questioned.

"No lady," Merry replied, "for you could not have known about the tragedy of Faramir's House. Pippin and Gandalf spoke of it to me though Faramir himself does not yet know."

"Then pray tell me of it," Éowyn asked, intrigued, "for I may speak with the Steward again and would not wish to say something to cause him greater woe."

"Very well lady," Merry replied, "Since it is you that asks and I know that you ask out of kindness and not for idle gossip. You have heard, I suppose, that the lord Denethor, Faramir's father is dead?"

"Yes. They say he was driven mad by the destruction of his city and was killed" Éowyn replied, recalling the gossip of her maid as they had talked of the siege and the battle whilst she had lain in bed.

"He was indeed and this much Faramir knows," Merry continued, "but there is more to the story than that. Denethor had been using the _palantír _of Minas Tirith and his mind had been driven to despair by the Dark Lord. He believed that both his sons were dead, though Faramir still lived and was but sorely wounded, and he sought to make a pyre to end the days of his House. For he could not face the destruction of his city nor the coming of the king and he ordered the abandonment of the guard posts and tried to kill both himself and his son. Gandalf and Pippin arrived in time to save Faramir but could not help the Steward and he killed himself in madness and grief"

Éowyn was silent as Merry finished the tale. She had thought that great grief lay within her own House, with the passing of her uncle and the death of his line. And yet here was a man robbed of both father and brother who was to learn that his father was driven mad by the agents of the Enemy. Suddenly, she understood why the lord Faramir had looked so troubled, though he knew only half of the story, and she determined to be gentler upon their next meeting and attempt to listen more closely to his words.

"Gandalf determined that Faramir should not know of this until he was well rested," Merry continued, "though I suspect that he will be told soon for he is of a perceptive mind and will soon hear of what befell his father."

"Well do not worry that I will tell him prematurely Merry," Éowyn replied, "for I would not wish to have that task for all the world."

"I do not worry on that count lady," Merry replied, "I only speak because I suspect that you will talk with him once again and I know that he will need a kind ear when he learns of the truth"

Éowyn nodded her agreement. "Yes. Though he should not look to me for comfort for I am a Shieldmaiden of Rohan and my hand is ungentle."

Merry grinned again and a glint of pure enjoyment came into his eye.

"That is as maybe lady," he replied, "but I suspect that it will be comfort enough to him that you listen, gentle or no"

Guessing that Merry was already reading too much into her musings, Éowyn fought to keep down the blush that rose unbidden to her cheeks and quickly moved the conversation onto safer territory, asking Merry about his own health and recovery. They spent a good hour whiling away the time with pleasant conversation after that yet, despite the good company, Éowyn could not tear her thoughts from the Steward of the City and resolved that, come the morning light, she would speak to him again.

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**Author's Note: **A change of perspective in this chapter to Eowyn's point of view so I hope that it works! I'll be switching between the two characters on a fairly regualr basis so I hope that it isn't too incongrous in tome or OOC. Again, please let me know what you think- Emeraldstargazer -


	3. Days of Minas Tirith

**III: Days of Minas Tirith**

And so it was that come the morning, when the sun once more glimmered against the walls of the white city, Faramir found the lady Éowyn atop the wall of the House of Healing, staring to the east. Faramir had spent a sleepless night, for thoughts of his father and brother had long clouded his mind and yet the sight of her, so serene upon the wall, made his heart lighten a little and he walked to join her. Upon hearing his tread she turned her gaze and he detected a slight smile upon her face at his approach yet sadness also, as if she felt some hidden sorrow that she hid from view.

"What do you seek lady that causes you to look eastward?" he asked, as he approached.

Éowyn looked back out towards the eastern horizon and shook her head slightly.

"I know not my lord, for I know that I will see nothing. I doubt that my lord Aragorn and his men have even reached the darkened land. And yet I look for them. It is foolish, I know but what else am I to do?"

Faramir leaned on the wall next to her, though his eyes were drawn to her face rather than to the horizon where Éowyn's gaze had wandered, and again he was struck by her beauty even in sadness and shadow.

"It is not foolish to follow the ones we love, or to hope for their safe return," he said gently, "I too watch the horizon though I know that the company will not yet have left the once fair land of Ithilien and have some days yet before they will reach the land of Shadow."

"There has been no news?" Éowyn asked, her face turning once again to the horizon.

"None my lady," he replied, "and I doubt that we shall hear of them until…until after"

She nodded sadly, as if it was as she had been expecting.

"If there is anyone left to bring the news or tell it to us…"

"Let us not speak of such things lady, for they make a fair day go ill within my heart" he answered quickly.

"How can such a day as this be fair, when we are doomed to wait for the world's ending my lord?" Éowyn asked, looking across at him for the first time.

"You would have my plain answer?" he asked, knowing full well that she would, for Éowyn was of a plain speaking people who did not look kindly upon idle words and rhetoric.

"I would"

He glanced down for a second, unsure of how to express himself without offending her for he was perceptive enough to have seen and heard of the lady Éowyn's fondness for his liege lord and king. And he had seen the pain within her eyes as she had spoken of the lord Aragorn and his company and guessed that her heart had been taken long ago by the new king, though he also knew of his liege lord's love for another; an elven princess who resided in fair Rivendell. Eventually he looked up again, meeting her eyes.

"Then, Éowyn of Rohan, I say to you that you are beautiful. In the valleys of our hills there are flowers fair and bright, and maidens fairer still; but neither flower nor lady have I seen till now in Gondor so lovely. And though I know the darkness may yet come to us all, I cannot call this an ill day when I can look upon such beauty."

Éowyn immediately broke from his gaze though a blush rose upon her cheeks that told him that his comment, though surprising to her, had not been entirely unwelcome.

"I do not desire the speech of living men," she said quietly, "though I…thank you for your kind words my lord."

"Forgive me. I have offended you lady, and do humbly peg you pardon," Faramir said hastily, sensing her unease.

"No," she relied softly, "I am not offended, though I think that perhaps this is not the time for such words my lord."

"Perhaps not," he agreed, "though it may be a time for friendship do you not think Éowyn of Rohan? Must you be so formal in you speech or would you have me as a friend and use my name?"

Éowyn blushed again but smiled warmly and it seemed to Faramir that some of the sunlight had come into her countenance as she did so.

"I would welcome your friendship with pleasure my lo…Faramir," she said kindly and looked across at him again, "Though you must call me Éowyn for I am unused to the title of lady, being as I am a Shieldmaiden of Rohan and of ungentle temperament and speech."

Faramir smiled and settled a little more easily upon the parapet, "I would not call you ungentle Éowyn, for I perceive as much kindness in your heart as there is valour in your spirit. Master Meriadoc told me as much about your care for your people as of your brave fight against the Witch-King."

"I doubt now my people would so look upon me," she said sadly, "for I failed to protect my king and lie here now, mending but a scratch, whilst the battle rages far away."

Faramir could see then in Éowyn's gentle countenance, a pride akin to that of his brother Boromir. The same valiant care for her people and shame at what she perceived as defeat. Could she not see what she had achieved, defeating a menace that even great Mithrandir had feared? Was it so hard for her to accept that she was every bit as much of a hero as her brother who rode to war with the king? Gently he reached for her hand, clasping it gently within his own. Though he felt her tense, she did not pull away and he kept his voice gentle as he spoke.

"Éowyn, listen to me. You are as much hero as anyone who rode with the king. You defeated a foe far greater than any mere Orc or Uruk-Hai and if your people do not respect and revere you for that, then they do not deserve to call you theirs."

A tear rolled down her cheek at his words, falling gently onto the stone parapet of the eastern wall. Feeling immediately anxious that his words has been the cause of her angst yet knowing full well that these were tears that she needed to shed, Faramir turned away from her again to the eastern horizon to allow Éowyn to take some measure of her tears.

"I thank you," she said sadly, ferociously wiping the tears from her eyes, "for your kind words though in my heart I still doubt my actions."

"It will be many months before any of us can fully judge our actions worthy," Faramir agreed, his thoughts straying back to his father and the way in which they had parted: in anger and bitterness.

"From what I hear you have nothing to be ashamed of in any of your actions Faramir," Éowyn replied, watching his troubled face. He smiled slightly in pleasure at hearing her speak his name in her soft Rohirric lilt but his face deepened to a frown once more when he thought back to the siege and fall of Osgiliath.

"That is not how everyone saw it," he replied sadly, his gaze lingering on the still smouldering ruins of the former capital of Gondor, lying away across the plains. Éowyn hesitated and then spoke, her voice more tentative than he had ever imagined her capable of being.

"You…speak of you father? I did not know him but I am sure that he was proud of his son as only a father could be"

Now it was Faramir's turn to feel unbidden tears well up behind his eyes and he fought to keep his mind on the present and not return to that darkened hall where his father had freely admitted that he wished his youngest son dead and the elder returned to life.

"I know you speak in kindness Éowyn for, as I say, your words are gentler than you give them credit for and already lift my heart from many cares. But you did not know my father, nor can you presume to judge his character or his love for me."

Éowyn's face took on a determined quality and she did not lower her head but met his eyes with her own.

"It is true. I did not know him, nor do I presume to understand him. But I know enough of men and kings to know they do not always act with kindness to those whom they love most. Yet, often they remember their love before the end. It was the same with my uncle Théoden when his mind was corrupted by Saruman and he sent away my brother, who had been almost a son to him."

"I doubt there is little similarity between my father and your uncle, Éowyn," Faramir replied, softly.

"Do you hold him in your memory with such bitterness?" Éowyn asked gently, studying his face with her piercing blue eyes.

Faramir thought long about her question, his mind wandering over that last meeting with his father and the memories of life before that, forever in his brother's shadow. At last he answered his voice full of sorrow.

"No, not bitterness. But I regret that we were not closer and had little time or kind words for each other."

"Will you not speak of him more than these few words Faramir?" Éowyn asked, "Not even to one who has passed within the same Shadow as you yourself have seen?"

"Another time maybe, my lady," Faramir replied, "but for now the moment is too close to my heart and I would not wish to burden you with my sorrows whilst your own heart is still broken."

He heard her sharp intake of breath and guessed from the blush in her cheeks that she had not realised that others knew of her love for the lord Aragorn.

"My heart will heal," she replied softly, "in time. As will yours."

Faramir smiled slightly and lifted his head to look at her fair face. Though still tinged with sadness, he saw a faint colour in her cheeks and a brightness in her eyes that she had not had the day before.

"In your presence Éowyn, I have no doubt that it will," he replied, rewarded by yet another renewal of the blush in her cheeks.

"Now," he continued, "We had best return to the house or the Warden will chastise me for keeping you here too long."

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**A/N: **Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed the first couple of chapters - I hope you find this one to be of the same caliber as the first two!

Thayzel - I hope that this chapter explains a little bit more about the fact that Eowyn does still have a shadow hanging over her. I don't know why but I always think that Eowyn makes this fact rather less obvious that Faramir in the books and, although still atroubled figure, she tries to be less preoccupied with her troubles maybe. Added to that I always find Eowyn more difficult to write for some reason so it can sometimes be difficult to bring out some of the morecomplex aspects of her character.

Thanks for reviewing again! I'll try and post again soon!

Emeraldstargazer -


	4. Talking in the Twilight

**A/N: **Finally! Well I've managed to get my internet connection back at last so I can finally update this fic with my latest chapter. Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed it so far - reviews are the lifeblood of all fanfiction authors and it's nice to know how to improve upon work as well. Some of the comments have certainly given my cause for thought and I shall definatly be exploring some of the ideas you've all raised. So thanks again and I hope you enjoy this next chapter. - Emeraldstargazer-**

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**IV: Talking In The Twilight**

Though she was loath to admit it, Éowyn was tired and she went straight to sleep once Faramir had delivered her safely into the Warden's care. She woke again in the dead of night, a pale moon filling the room with a gentle light. Though she knew she should rest, Éowyn's thoughts returned to her earlier conversation with Faramir and she blushed unwilling at the recollection of his admiration for her.

She had never been called beautiful before. Her uncle and brother had often spoken of her strong will and countenance, calling her pretty. And Grima had spoken of her bewitching manner though it had been but a trick designed to beguile her and buy her love. But never had she been called beautiful by such a man as this, a man who looked at her with such admiration his eyes.

If only the lord Aragorn had looked at her in such a way or had said such eloquent words. And yet her heart was not broken by his rejection, as Faramir had presumed. Instead she found herself somewhat glad of the fact that she would not be Queen of such a city of this, cold and uncompromising as it was. But yet she still loved the lord Aragorn, of that she was sure, for he was a man both noble and strong as her uncle and father had been. Aragornwas as aman of the Rohirrim should be; a fearless leader and a courageous captain, yet he had none of the bold arrogance of many ofEomer's friends but instead a captivating gentleness thatspoke of his elven childhood.Yet Faramir had that gentleness too in far greater a quantity and although she doubted he was a man who sought a fight, Eowyn had seen the same fire in Faramir's eyes as lit Aragorn's when he thought of battle and of his men. It wasthe fire of a leader; a captain of men whether by choice or by fate and it was there in the eyesof the Steward of the Minas Tirith, justasit was in the eyes of his king. Disturbed by these thoughtsEowyndetermined to remain but friends with the new Steward of the City and no more else. For it could not be that she, Éowyn Shieldmaiden of Rohan, had confused the feelings within her heart or fallen into a childish fancy at Aragorn's appearance in her uncle's court. She would never have been so mistaken.

Unwilling to go back to sleep, she slipped from her bed and found her mantle of pale white. It provided little warmth against the chill of the night, but it was better than her simple gown. Quietly she opened the door and stole along the corridor to the outer exit to the garden, determined to spend some time walking alone before returning to her bed.

It could not have been much past midnight, a time when even the healers were all abed and the House lay in silence, so Éowyn was surprised to see another figure within the garden, standing silent in the moonlight's hush. It surprised her much less as she moved closer and saw it was Faramir, his gaze turned towards the starlight sky above.

"You keep late hours my lord," she said, stepping forward into a patch of moonlight.

Starting a little at the sound of her voice, Faramir smiled as he saw her approach, his quick glance taking appraisal of her beauty in the moonlit courtyard.

"No more so than you it would seem Éowyn"

It gave her an unexpected tingle to hear him speak her name but she remembered her earlier promise and offered simply a wan smile.

"What do you look for out here in the dead of night?" she asked gently, shivering a little in the cool of the night.

"I look to the stars, as I used to when I was sent away to Ithilien. For in those stars I can find home wherever I am in this land or another. It was something that Boromir taught me when I was but a child," he explained quietly, "My father determined to send me away for a time, to see how the army worked and lived. To this end he sent me with a company of soldiers to the border of Ithilien. I was only ten and I can remember being very scared at the thought of being so far from home. I worried that I would not be able to find my way back. Boromir showed me how to look at the stars so that I always knew where I was and could always get back home again."

He smiled sadly and Éowyn could almost see the memories that played across his mind as he stood in the moonlight.

"Your brother sounds like he was a kind man," she ventured, unsure of how to broach the subject with him.

Faramir nodded and turned to look at her, smiling slightly though there was sadness in his eyes and his tone was melancholy.

"He was, to me at least. When we were young he always protected me when father was angry. And when we grew older he helped me to understand how best to avoid our father's wrath, though it seemed I was a poor student for I still received it for much of the time," Faramir said, his voice tinged with a bitterness that Éowyn had not thought him capable of, "Yet even then Boromir protected me. He was stern at times and proud but I loved him and would have wished for no other man to be my brother."

"It was the same with Éomer and me," Éowyn said gently, her mind recalling her childhood in Meduseld, "When father was killed, he helped me to understand and when we later lost my mother too, it was Éomer who protected me and drew me out of my grief. It was he who taught me how to fit in at my uncle's court and how to be a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. I do not know what I would do without him."

"You worry about him," Faramir said, though whether a question or a statement, Éowyn could not be sure.

"Of course," she replied, a little more harshly than she had intended, "Do you not worry for those you love when they go to fight a peril such as this?"

Faramir looked at the ground, his face turned slightly away from her and unreadable in the dark of the night. At last he spoke.

"I fear for the lives of my men, yes. And for that of my liege lord and king," he said softly, "but who else have I to worry for, Éowyn? I am the last of my House, with mother, father and brother all taken from me"

She was unsure of how to respond to his statement, aware that she had blundered with her outspoken question. For of course, Faramir had no family left to wish safely home for they had all fallen in the fight already. Instead they entered into an uneasy silence, only broken when Éowyn was unable to stop the slight chatter of her teeth for the cold that shook her body. Seeing her shiver, Faramir walked across, taking her ice cold hand within his own. The touch of his fingers made her shiver again, though this time it was not for the cold and she knew it.

"You are shivering Éowyn," he stated, "and no wonder given how thin that mantle is. It may suffice for the warm halls of Edoras but it is no match for the chill of the night air in Gondor. Have you no winter cloak my lady?"

"None," she replied, "I had only battle gear when I arrived here and the House had but few spare items they could give me once I woke."

Unpinning his own cloak, Faramir wrapped it gently around her shoulders and she gratefully accepted its warmth, for it was made of fine woollen fabric as were all the cloaks of the Ithilien rangers.

"We shall have to find you a better mantle if you are to wander in the darkness without the Warden's permission," he said, his tone slightly mocking rather than chastising her.

"I have slept all I can," Éowyn replied gently, pulling the cloak tighter around her shoulders, "and wished to walk a little. And, as this is the only place that I may walk, it is to here that I came. Though I did not imagine that I would find anyone else breaking the Warden's curfew…"

"You are not the only one who feels caged within these walls Éowyn," Faramir replied, "or are reminded of things they thought they had forgotten."

"I would not have thought this city a cage to you," Éowyn mused, "for it is as much your home as Edoras is mine.'

Faramir shook his head. "I did not live in Minas Tirith as a child," he explained, "though I visited often to see my father and brother who both kept court here. I lived with my mother on the borders of Ithilien, while our forces still held it in peace."

"Your mother?" Éowyn asked curiously. She had heard no one speak of Denethor's wife all the time she had been in the city and had presumed that the woman had died in childbirth.

"Yes. She died when I was very young and had been in poor health long before then. It was why we moved from Minas Tirith, for my father thought that the country air would do her some good," he said, smiling sadly at the memory, "Alas she was too good for this world and such evil times and faded away as rose that wilts before the coming frost."

"You speak of her with much love," Éowyn mused, seeing the gentle light that came into the young steward's eyes as he spoke and the soft smile that graced his lips as he was lost in memory.

"She was a wonderful woman," Faramir replied, looking up firmly, "and it was from her that Boromir and I gained our fair colouring. It is also from her that I gained a love of arts and learning, for I can recall her teaching me when I was a child."

"She sounds like my mother," Éowyn said gently, "She also died when I was young, soon after we lost my father. Some say she wasted away for love of him but that was not the case."

She recalled angrily the rumours of some of the women within Meduseld so in contrast to her picture of her mother, a strong woman who had had a fire and spirit that she has passed down to her wayward daughter.

"My mother was a fighter," she continued, "and were it not for the sickness that took her, no band of men or Orcs would have made her leave her children."

"I can well believe it," Faramir replied, looking at her gently, "for she bought a woman as strong as you into this world."

At this Éowyn looked upon Faramir with a new wonder. Though she had found his words of beauty eloquent, she was not a woman who desired to be called beautiful. But she did desire to be strong though few men ever contemplated her as such. Even in Rohan, where Shieldmaidens were held in high honour, she was seen as woman first and a warrior second. Here, in this proud city where it was only men who rode to war, she had least expected to find a man who could see what she wished to be; a woman, but one who was as strong as any of the riders in Meduseld. And yet such a man stood in front of her and, though he was not himself a lover of battle or glory, he saw her need for strength and honour.

Faramir did not notice her unease, for his mind had returned to the past and he spoke softly.

"My mother too was strong, in spirit if not in health. In that way, she was most like my father, though I often wonder as to how they managed otherwise, for he was like a cold winter to her warm spring.'

Éowyn did not speak, but listened carefully to the words, aware that Faramir was not talking for her sake but more for his own.

"We were never close, father and I," he said sadly, "especially not after my mother's death. He withdrew from all that reminded him of her, and I was his most constant reminder and could not be hidden in a drawer or kept from sight. Boromir he loved, for he had my father's spirit and wished for battle and glory."

Éowyn stepped behind the steward quietly, watching as a tear rolled down the young man's cheek, glimmering in the moonlight. Looking now, she noted how different Faramir would be in looks to his new king. Though of similar height, Faramir was of far slighter build than Aragorn and, whereas Aragorn was dark, Faramir's complexion was fair; his hair golden and his eyes a pale blue. And where the new king was of stern appearance; often appearing troubled and beyond his years, his steward was of gentler looks; and; though it was clear that years of death and war had taken their toll, he was still handsome in appearance. Tentatively, she laid her hand upon his shoulder. He started in surprise but then relaxed again and looked down at her clear blue eyes.

"I am sure that your father loved you Faramir, in his own way," she said gently, "though he may not have had heart enough to show it."

Faramir looked at her, thanks in his eyes though he could not find the words to speak it. But Éowyn did not need his words, for in that moment, in the moonlit garden of Minas Tirith, she realised that they both understood one another without need for spoken words or deeds. And, as they stood side by side in silence, she came to another realisation. She, Éowyn of Rohan, was in love with two men; one who rode to war and battle and another, who stood silently in a moonlit garden with her now. The realisation bought upon her a gentle flush, for she knew that it was not possible to love both Aragorn and Faramir at the same time and she feared that she had made a grievous error in attempting to get to know the young steward better. She withdrew her hand, drawing another look of surprise from Faramir though this time his face was mingled with something she could only place akin to regret.

"Forgive me my lord," she said, her voice quicker than she had intended it to be, "but I…grow a little cold and think I should return to my rooms."

Confusion swept across Faramir's face for a second, before he recovered himself and nodded.

"Of course," he said, "I should not have detained you so long Éowyn, forgive me. Let me escort you back to your rooms."

"I am quite all right, thank you," Éowyn said quickly, "I have detained you enough for one day my lord."

Seeing the puzzlement on Faramir's face at her sudden turn to coolness, she lowered her head from his gaze, unable to look upon the hurt in his eyes. He did not probe her on it but instead merely nodded.

"As you wish lady."

Éowyn unpinned the cloak gently in attempt to hand it back to him but he shook his head.

"Keep it," he said, "until we can find something warmer for these cool evenings. I am used to the cold and can suffice until the morning without it."

Returning his smile with what she hoped seemed to be unconcerned graciousness, Éowyn turned and walked back to her room. Yet though she tore her body from his presence, her mind stayed with the steward, looking up at the stars.


	5. The Gift of a Gentle Heart

**A/N: **As promised, here is the fifth chapter of 'A Gift of A Gentle Heart'. There's probably another 2 or 3 chapters to go after this before I finish with a possible sequel after that (depending on what people think ofthis fic!).Once again, thank you to everyone for reviewing and I am glad to know that, for the most part, you are enjoying this fanfiction.

One or two people have commented on the fact that I made Faramir look more like hisfilm counterpart than Tolkien's original and this is indeed true. Whilst I like Tolkien's dark-haired Faramir, I felt that thefilms were excellently cast, particulary with regards to Faramir and Eowyn, and so I have used the possibly more recognisable film-likenesses for this story. However, feel free to imagine Faramir as you see fit!

Again, a disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters as they all belong to the Tolkien family and to New Line Cinema. I'm just borrowing them for a while as they are so much fun.

Once again, please r and r as reviews are the lifeblood of fanfiction authors! - Emeraldstargazer -**

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****V: The Gift of A Gentle Heart**

Faramir did not see Éowyn the next day, as she kept to her rooms. Nor did he see her the day after that as he was beset by Beregond who came to talk matters of state with him. As the days slipped by he worried if he had offended her in some way or whether he had been too forward with his words or actions. As Éowyn herself had said, whilst they yet lived under the Shadow it was inappropriate to speak of beauty, even if what was said was in kindness and love. And yet he could not imagine an ill day when he was with her, for to him she was sunshine itself and he missed their long talks in the silent days that followed. Seeking a reason to go and see her, Faramir recalled Éowyn's lack of a mantle and asked one of the healers if she could find one for the Shieldmaiden.

"I'm afraid we haven't got any winter cloaks to spare my lord," the healer replied, nervously. "We sent most of our supplies off with the army – or gave them to the homeless of the city after the siege."

"A noble cause" Faramir agreed, "though I would not have our royal guest from Rohan go cold. I think there must be some cloaks within my mother's wardrobe in the Steward's quarters"

The healer looked up quickly. Faramir could understand her surprise – his mother's room had not been opened since her death when Denethor had sealed it and refused anyone entry. Faramir presumed that all of his mother's things had remained in the room since then.

"I…I can certainly go and look my lord, if you wish it," the healer replied.

"Thank you" Faramir replied, "I think that Beregond has the keys to the Steward's quarters in my absence. If you find a suitable mantle please take it to the Lady Éowyn, with my compliments."

"As you wish my lord," the healer replied, curtsying briefly before leaving.

* * *

The wind swept through Éowyn's hair as she stood upon the walls of Minas Tirith. The sun was setting, darkness falling across the countryside. The city was empty and silent, not a voice nor a footstep disturbing the evening's hush.

Away in the East, a faint glow of fire red was a grim reminder of Sauron's unwavering presence, a visible monument to a nameless fear. Watching the gathering gloom, Éowyn could see why Gondorians hurried to what remained of their homes at twilight, for the darkness of Mordor appeared almost to reach out and touch the city as the evening's shadow lengthened. Yet still she enjoyed the evening's hush and looked forward to the serenity of the twilight hours when she could walk abroad without seeing another soul. Looking out from the wall, her thoughts turned to Eomer and Aragorn and the company who had ridden to their doom along with him and once again wished fervently for her brother's safe return.

She wished also that Aragorn would come back safe and well; to return a King to this citadel, but she found without surprise that it no longer pained her that she would never be his Queen. The White City had great beauty but it was harsh and cold and magnificent, and she could no more rule it than she could live within it. For Aragorn, Minas Tirith was his destiny but for Éowyn it was little more than a cage, a million miles away from the rolling plains she loved so much. No, Éowyn mused, she did not love Aragorn, not as a Queen should love a King. She loved him yes, but it was a different kind of love though she could not yet give it name.

A soft footfall tore Éowyn from her musings and, turning her head, she saw Faramir walking towards her with obvious intent. Despite herself, her heart lightened at the sight of him. In the last few days she had been intentionally avoiding the steward but she had missed their conversations more than she had ever imagined and had been meaning to apologise for her recent brusqueness when she next saw him. The young steward offered her a smile as he approached which she automatically returned, with deliberate warmth.

"I would have thought it too cold for you to be walking abroad this evening Éowyn," Faramir stated.

The last rays of sunlight played gently across the steward's youthful face as he spoke; taking away the lines of war and worry that had aged him and making Éowyn see, quite to her surprise, how handsome Faramir could be considered.

"I like the peace of the evening" Éowyn replied lightly, "and I can suffer some discomfort to enjoy it. Looking from these walls at twilight makes me almost forget the trials we suffer at present."

Faramir glanced across to the view from the wall – the last rays of sunlight gently filtering across the fields of the Pelannor, the first of the evening's stars in the sky – and nodded, also appreciative of the view.

"It will be a beautiful night" he murmured gently, "But it is a cloudless sky and I think, my lady, that you will feel the cold more than you anticipate."

Éowyn smiled at the slight note of jest within his tone, "Despite what you think my lord, I am not some spring flower that wilts before a frost."

"I would never consider you as such, Éowyn" Faramir replied gently, "Though your beauty rivals that of all the flowers in the Gondor."

Seeing her blush, the Steward flushed deeply before hastily continuing, "But the warden considers you not yet fully well despite your protestations and so, I would give you a gift to keep you warm on these cold evenings."

Éowyn hadn't seen the cloak that Faramir had previously held over his arm for it was the same deep blue as the gathering midnight sky: the very colour of the night. She gasped as he unfurled the cloth and saw that, interwoven with the rich velvet were the stars themselves – gossamer threads of silver that caught the last rays of the evening sun and shone like the night sky. As a Lady of Rohan Éowyn had seen many beautiful things, though she had always treasured fine weaponry over fine dresses in Meduseld, however she had never seen such a beautiful object in her life before.

Clearly the cloak had been crafted with much love for its previous owner and she could hazard a guess at who that owner had been. She looked to Faramir for confirmation, meeting his eyes – eyes that held a faint glimmer of amusement at her wonder and a deeper, more hidden emotion that Éowyn only dared to dream of – and received a nod of affirmation in response to her unspoken question.

"It was my mothers" he explained gently, "Made for her by my father's craftsmen as a gift to her upon their wedding. It is crafted in the style of Dol Amroth, for that was her home and he wished to give her something to remind her of that when she was locked within these walls and far from the sight of her homeland."

"I…I cannot receive this gift," Éowyn stumbled, after a pause, "It…it is too great a thing for you to give Faramir."

Faramir shook his head and placed the cloak around her shoulders. The fabric was lighter than she had anticipated and it held unexpected warmth, which took the chill of the evening from her shoulders.

"Would you refuse a gift given in kindness Éowyn?" Faramir asked, gently. "It would do me a great honour if you would wear this cloak for you have my mother's spirit and I have never before met a woman for whom this cloak has seemed so fitting a gift."

Overwhelmed, Éowyn nodded and let the cloak's weight settle upon her shoulders more easily. "Then I thank you my lord, with all my heart. I shall be proud to wear this gift."

Faramir smiled gently, his eyes sparkling with a light she had never seen in them before which reflected the light of the newly risen moon and yet still sparkled with the faint glow of the evening's sun. Then he bowed low to her in the courtly style of the city.

"Then, having succeeded in my errand, I shall leave you to watch the sunset my lady knowing that you can do so without causing further ailment."

With an almost too swift turn and a gentle flush to his pale skin, Faramir retreated back the way he had come, a shadow amongst shadows. She could barely hear his footfalls on the grass as he went, another sign of the young Steward's life as a Ranger. Another sign that beneath the peaceable exterior was a man who could rival Gondorian skill and courage. A fair match for a Shieldmaiden of Rohan. It was then, watching his retreating shadow and with his mother's cloak resting where he had placed it upon her shoulders that Éowyn of Rohan finally realised where her heart lay.

* * *


	6. The End of Days

**A/N: **Yet more apologies for another long absence between updates - confounded internet problems again that are now (hopefully) sorted. Again, thank you so much for all the reviews and apologies for the long wait.

This is yet another short chapter (but I promise the next few will be longer!) but it finishes at a point that seems appropriate, hence why a quotation from the magnificent book itself finishes this chapter for me - I really don't think anybody manages the words better than Tolkien himself. Anyway, I hope that you enjoy this chapter and I shall try to post the next quite soon. After some revisions, there are probably another 3 chapters to come after this one before this fic can finally be put to bed. Enjoy!

- Emeraldstargazer -

**

* * *

VI: The End of Days**

The days took on a new routine for Faramir after he had gifted Éowyn the cloak for, although his days were still filled with increasing amounts of state business, he found that he now looked forward to the previous silent evenings as he knew for certain that he would be able to head to the walls of the House of Healing and find the Shieldmaiden there.

They spent many hours talking together and Faramir found himself telling Éowyn far more than he would have shared with anyone else; they talked of his family and of hers, and of state business and of his nervousness about being Steward. He valued her opinion for Meduseld had taught Éowyn of politics as well as of arms, though Faramir found that it had taught her little of history or art and he delighted in telling her the tales of ancient myth and lore that he had learnt from Mithrandir as a child. Each evening bought new closeness and new confidences between them and with each meeting their health improved until the Warden felt it was almost time to release them from his care.

It came as little surprise to Faramir to discover that he loved Éowyn and, in many ways he thought that he had always loved her, from the moment she had strode so determinedly towards him in the garden with the agitated Warden following close behind. Of her feelings he was still unsure and he only dared to think that she might feel the same. He was only a Steward and she had loved a King, he was a Gondorian of a proud city and she a Shieldmaiden of Rohan's green hills, and everything he could think of stood against them with the Darkness still upon them both. Yet he did not care and still he loved her and was content with that.

As he stood upon the wall with Éowyn once again, Faramir was happier than he had been for many years even though the light of Mount Doom's fire still lit the evening sky. Yet he sensed discomfort from Éowyn, for she scanned the horizon with more intent than ever before.

"What do you look for Éowyn?"

She turned to him, her eyes filled with an anxiety that he had not seen since they had first met. Concerned, Faramir reached for her hand and clasped it gently within his own.

"It is seven days since my brother and the King rode away," Éowyn replied, "and if the Black Gate lies just beyond the horizon then surely they must be there now. The battle has been won and lost but still we hear no news."

Faramir nodded, sharing her concern for both the King and for his men. On Faramir's orders, the Ithilien Company had pledged their support to both Mithrandir and Aragorn after the retreat from Osgiliath, and in his absence they had followed his orders to the letter and ridden to the Black Gate with the King. Though he was proud of their bravery, Faramir prayed for their safe return for he had led the company for years and knew his men more as brothers than subordinates.

He prayed also for the King; a King that Gondor so desperately needed, and for Éowyn's brother who had ridden at Aragorn's side. And he prayed for his childhood friend and tutor, Mithrandir and for Pippin, whose eyes should have been too young to have seen war. Lastly, Faramir's thoughts turned to the ringbearer Frodo, and to Sam whose final words of honour still rang in Faramir's ears. He only hoped that by proving his quality, he had given the two hobbits a chance to reach Mount Doom and end the cycle of destruction wrought by the One Ring.

"It reminds me of Númenor," said Faramir softly, his voice seeming almost alien in the silence.

"Númenor?" Éowyn asked, "You have never told me of that."

"It was the land of Westernesse that foundered. I have often dreamt of that dark wave climbing over the green lands and coming onwards, like darkness unescapable."

"You think…you think that the Darkness will come here? Darkness Unescapable?" Éowyn asked, shivering underneath her starry mantle and grasping Faramir's hand a little tighter.

Faramir shook his head uncertainly, "It was but a picture in my mind Éowyn. One of many that the Shadow left. I know not what is happening though I worry for my King and for my men. The fear and doubt of this evil time are grown dark indeed but, Éowyn, Éowyn, White Lady of Rohan; I care not for these dark thoughts, for in this hour I do not believe that any darkness can endure!"

Caught up in the words and the feelings, it was only when he had finished speaking that Faramir realised how tightly he had been holding Éowyn's hand and how lost he had been in her eyes. The realisation made him blush furiously and he lowered his eyes slightly to tear them away from her gaze. Wordlessly, and with her hand still clasped in his, Éowyn gently laid her head on Faramir's shoulder and with relief, he kissed her golden hair, breathing in its gentle scent.

And as they stood there upon the wall, hands clasped in a gentle silence, a great wind rose up and blew throughout the city, gusting through the winding streets and ancient passageways. And the Shadow departed from the East and the Sun was unveiled, streaming across the walls of the city, from the lowest streets to the top White Tower of Ecthelion. The waters of the Anduin shone like silver and Faramir and Éowyn, along with all the men and women of the City, felt their hearts sing though the source of their joy was unknown.

_

* * *

And before the Sun had fallen far from noon out of the East there came a great Eagle flying, and he bore tidings beyond hope from the Lords of the West, crying:_

_Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor,_

_for the Realm of Sauron is ended for ever,_

_and the Dark Tower is thrown down._

_And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed,_

_and he shall plant it in the high places,_

_and the City shall be blessed_

_Sing all ye people!_

_And the people sang in all the ways of the City._

_- The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King -_

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	7. The Remarkable Nature of Hobbits

**A/N: **Apologies for the incredibly long wait for this chapter - university came a calling and I, poor student that I am, was bound to go and answer. But fear not - this story has not been forgotton nor have the kind and helpful reviews that have been submitted to it. Tank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, as always.

This chapter may seem a slight deviation from the previous ones although I hope that it does fit into place with the story as a whole. I felt that the story would have rushed to a conclusion without adding something to slow it down a little and this chapter managed to comfortably slow the pace and reintroduce a character of whom I am rather fond. Hope that you enjoy it and please R and R!

-Emeraldstargazer-

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters (though I wish I did!); they all belong to Tolkien and, in the case of the movies, Peter Jackson and New Line Cinema. So please don't sue me

**VII: The Remarkable Nature of Hobbits**

The days that followed the Eagle's tidings were spent in flurry of activity for Faramir. Although he enjoyed seeing the revels of the Gondorians, he had little time to make merry himself with the imminent return of the King and his company to the city.

Though almost returned to full health, Faramir, although loath to admit it, found the preparations taxing to his system. All the papers that outlined Aragorn's right of succession had to be found and prepared from amidst the ravaged and unkempt library of Minas Tirith, which had taken a direct hit during the siege. The King's state rooms were being rapidly repaired and made ready for use and a coronation of sorts was being hastily arranged. The preparations led to the Steward spending many long days bent over an old oak table in the hall of the House of Healing, papers surrounding him, as Beregond fetched and carried his orders to the city guard and the craftsmen making ready for Aragorn's arrival.

On the third day swift riders arrived from Cair Andros, bringing with them tidings of the company and notes for both Merry and Éowyn, which Faramir could only guess were summons. Thus prepared he was therefore not surprised when Merry came later to ask for permission to leave the city. The young hobbit arrived just as Faramir had started working on the semi-burned papers that should have proved their new Kings relation to Élendil and the blood of Númenor; his friendly face, a welcome sight for the Steward's tired eyes.

"Are you busy my Lord?" Merry asked, "I can return later…"

Faramir shook his head quickly, "I am never too busy for a friend Merry. Please come in, sit down." He gestured to a chair on the opposite side of the table, near to the fire that burned softly in the grate, providing the Steward with the extra light he needed to work as the dark of night gathered outside.

The hobbit settled himself in the chair. "You look busy my Lord," he observed with a wry smile.

Faramir laughed dryly, "More than I would wish to be master Hobbit but alas it cannot be helped. I must prepare for the coming of the King and then, finally, my work will be done and my brief reign as Steward ended."

"You sound as if you do not envy Aragorn his destiny," Merry observed.

"I do not" Faramir admitted, "The King will have a hard task rebuilding the city and reuniting the world of Men. Many of the southlanders fought against us in the War of the Ring and it will not be easy to get them to strike a truce even without their Dark Lord."

"You seem to know much of the politics of the situation Faramir," Merry stated "Maybe Aragorn will wish for a Steward such as yourself."

Faramir grinned, "Maybe he will Merry, though I am not my father and would be just as happy to retire to a quiet life as I would to serve my King."

Merry smiled, "The Lady Éowyn said as much to me earlier."

Faramir could not help but raise his head from the paper he had been studying, eliciting a flicker of a smile from Merry.

"You have seen Éowyn?" Faramir asked, his voice filled with a calm he did not feel. He himself had not seen her except in passing since they had stood together on the wall on the day of Sauron's fall for the preparations and paperwork had kept him from her, and he had missed her company more than he cared to admit.

"I saw her briefly this morning for she received her summons from the riders when I received mine. Her brother sent word for her to come to the field of Cormallen to be with him," Merry explained.

With effort Faramir hid the sudden wave of disappointment that fell upon him at the thought of Éowyn's leaving though he had always known she would wish to see her brother as the company drew closer to Minas Tirith. Yet he could not help but feel somewhat disheartened at the thought of her riding towards the camp of Aragorn and further away from him. He still could not guess where Éowyn's heart truly lay.

"So I will lose not one, but two, of the guests of my City" Faramir mused, "I will be the lesser for your leaving."

"Then fear not my Lord Faramir for you are only to lose one house guest," Merry replied, smiling gently.

Faramir frowned in confusion at the Hobbit's words, "You do not go to Cair Andros Merry? I thought you would wish to be reunited with your kin."

Merry chuckled. "It is not I who shall be staying within this House my Lord. I come to beg leave of your hospitality so that I my go to my cousin and my friends. It is the Lady Éowyn who has decided to rest a while longer before heading to Cormallen. She feels that she is not yet well rested enough for the ride and will stay a few days longer."

"Éowyn…is staying here?" Faramir asked, unable to keep the smile from filtering across his face.

Merry smiled wryly again. "She is my Lord. At least until her brother is only a few days from the Citadel. Though I fear it will be lonely for her with nobody to talk to. I will have left her and she spoke of how busy you have been of late when I saw her earlier."

Faramir was astute enough to pick up the jesting tone of the Hobbit's voice and smiled wryly, the same note of jest creeping into his own tone as he replied, "As I said before, I am never too busy for a friend Merry. It is true that I have much work to do but not so much as to deny my guests company. I will make an effort to see the Lady Éowyn soon after you depart, since you inform me of my neglected duties as host."

"I am glad to hear it my Lord," Merry said, his grin widening, "as I may now beg your leave knowing that my Lady will be in the safest of hands."

Faramir returned the grin as Merry rose from the chair. "Go in peace Merry and send my good wishes to Sam and Frodo and the rest of the company."

"I will my Lord," Merry replied, bowing low to Faramir, who returned the gesture in kind. Merry turned to leave the hall, humming a gentle tune to himself. As he reached the door, Faramir called out to him.

"Thank you Merry."

The young Hobbit turned around grinning, "She is upon the Wall of the House my Lord, if you should wish to talk to her."

With a final grin, Merry left the room leaving Faramir to wonder again at the general remarkable nature of Hobbits.


	8. Do You Love Me Or Will You Not?

**A/N: **Wow. This has been a long time coming hasn't it? Truth be told, I was stuck as to how to finish Tolkien's story without taking away from the majesty of his words. In the end I decided to keep his dialogue and just add the feelings and gestures that he omits, and I hope I've done the scene justice as it is one of my favourites in the whole book. Anyway, this is the end of the story - the end of all things as it were. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Thank you for reading and please review this final chapter for me. Maybe I'll write another LOTR fic now as this one has been so much fun! Thanks again.

Emeraldstargazer -x-

**Disclaimer: **It's not mine - the idea and most of the dialogue belongs to J.R.R Tolkien and his storytelling genius, and to New Line Cinema and Peter Jackson for bringing it to life on the big screen.I'm just playing with it for a while and I promise I'll give it back in one piece.

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****VIII: Do You Love Me…Or Will You Not?**

The evening sun shone on the city of Minas Tirith as it had done for many days since the eagle's tidings. In the city below her Éowyn could see the preparations for the return of Aragorn and the company, men and women running and shouting to one another joyously as they prepared food, wine and buildings for the celebrations to come. Yet the sight filled her heart with less joy than she knew it ought. For with Éomer's return would come a departure that in her heart Éowyn knew she did not yet want to bear – an ending to something she felt had only just begun.

A footfall on the stairs drew her from her musings but she did not need to turn her head to know her visitor and she did not speak, fearing what she might say if she did.

"Éowyn"

The sound of Faramir's voice made her heart beat a little faster, though she still mavelled at the effect such a simple thing could have upon her counternance. Had she, a proud Shieldmaiden of Rohan really fallen in love so easily with this gentle Captain of Gondor? Had her heart changed its course so swiftly? Were it not for the effect such simple things had upon her, Éowyn would scarce have believed her own feelings yet here she stood, unable to speak for fear her feelings might betray her.

"Éowyn….why do you tarry here, and not go to Cormallen where your brother awaits you?"

"Do you not know?" Éowyn asked, her eyes still fixed on the evening sky and her voice barely a whisper on the gentle breeze.

She heard Faramir's sharp intake of breath at her words, as if he guessed her reasoning and yet dared to hope it was true, and yet his voice was level and reasoned as he replied.

"Two reasons there may be, but which is true, I do not know…"

Summoning all her courage Éowyn turned to face the young Steward, raising her eyes to his but for the briefest moment before finding herself forced to drop them once more by the fervent hope she found within them.

"I do not wish…to play at riddles. Speak plainly my lord," she demanded, though her words were stronger than her voice.

Faramir smiled gently and he took a step towards her, bringing a welcome warmth to her.

"If you would have it so, my lady...either you do not go because only your brother called to you and to look upon the Lord Aragorn now would bring you no joy, or…" he hesitated, "Or because I do not go, and you desire still to be near me. And maybe...maybe for both these reasons, and you cannot choose between them…"

Then at last the question she had both hoped for and dreaded, to which there was an answer she was only now sure of giving.

"Éowyn, do you love me…or will you not?"

Breathing in deeply, her heart pounding for the joy within her, Éowyn decided that now the time had come for honesty. It was on these walls, where they had first met that Faramir of Gondor, who had won her heart, deserved her plain answer.

"I…I wished to be loved by another" she admitted, smiling a little at her foolish younger self and the admiration she had thought to be love, "but I desire no man's pity."

Faramir nodded gently, taking her hand in his own. She could feel the beat of his heart through his fingers, pulsing as quickly as her own.

"That I know," he murmured, his voice filled both with the pain of remembrance and the hope he found within her words, "You desired to be loved by the Lord Aragorn. You wished to have renown and glory and, as a great captain may to a young soldier, he seemed admirable…"

Faramir paused, collecting his thoughts before continuing onwards, "For so he is…he is a lord among men, the greatest that is now. But when he gave you only understanding and pity, then you desired to have nothing, unless a brave death in battle…"

Éowyn could feel his gaze upon her though she kept her head down, half fearing the truth she knew she would find there. Gently he brought his hand to her face, lifting it until their eyes met.

"Look at me Éowyn" he asked, barely constrained emotion making his voice falter as his eyes met hers, "Do not scorn pity that is the gift of a gentle heart….but I do not offer you my pity. You are a lady high and valiant and you have won yourself renown that shall not be forgotten. And you are a lady beautiful, I deem, beyond even the words of the Elven-tongue to tell. And…I love you. Once….once I pitied your sorrow. But now, were you sorrowless, without fear or any lack, were you the blissful Queen of Gondor itself, still I would love you…Éowyn, do you not love me?"

And it was then, standing there on the walls of Minas Tirith under the fading sun, that Éowyn of Rohan knew she had finally found what she had been searching for. Once she had sought death and glory to take away her despair but now she wished only for healing and growth, her despair wiped away by the future she saw in Faramir's clear blue eyes.

She smiled gently at him, letting her hand caress his cheek and brushing away a stray stand of his hair, "No longer do I desire to be a queen."

Faramir laughed, seeing in her answer the hope he himself had felt, "That is well for I am not a king…yet…yet I will wed the White Lady of Rohan, if that be her will?"

"Then must I leave my own people, man of Gondor?" Éowyn asked teasingly, "And would have your proud folk say 'There goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North!"

She paused, her laughter dying as Faramir stepped even closer to her: so close she could feel his breath upon her cheek, making her voice drop to barely a whisper, "Was there no women of Númenor to choose?"

Leaning even closer, his voice a tone that made her heart jump and her body shiver, Faramir whispered gently, "No, there was no other. There was only my White Lady, and I would have her as my wife."

And he kissed her under the sunlit sky, upon the walls of Minas Tirith. And Éowyn cared not that the people saw them and shouted for joy, her thoughts filled only with joy and love and thoughts of a future free from shadow and despair.

And, unbeknownst to either of his patients, the Warden stood in the door of the house smilingly contentedly at all that had come to pass.

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_And to the Warden of the Houses Faramir said: "Here is the Lady Éowyn of Rohan, and now she is healed…"_

_- The Return of the King: The Steward and the King -_

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